


Keith in the Bathroom

by PurpleKlanceFan



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Bullying, Cutting, Depressed Keith (Voltron), Gay Keith (Voltron), Hunk and Pidge mentioned only, I love Keith I swear, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Keith (Voltron) is a Mess, M/M, Oblivious Lance (Voltron), Sad with a Happy Ending, Self-Harm, Underage Drinking, keith is my baby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-26
Updated: 2018-06-27
Packaged: 2019-05-29 00:55:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15061532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PurpleKlanceFan/pseuds/PurpleKlanceFan
Summary: Parties aren't Keith's thing. They never have, and they never will be. It's why he usually sticks with his best friend (and crush), Lance.But when Lance leaves Keith alone at the biggest party of the fall, and he is having a rough night as is, the bathroom seems like the safest place, for all the wrong reasons.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This one-shot is based very loosely off of "Michael in the Bathroom" from Be More Chill, with my own twists and changes. 
> 
> I had actually written this same story on Fanfiction.net when I wrote NatsuxLucy fanfictions, but I wanted to see it in Klance form now! 
> 
> Hope Y'all enjoy!

Why the fuck was he here again? This wasn’t his idea of ‘hanging out’ whatsoever. ‘Hanging out to Keith was sitting on some bean bags in the Lion cafe, drinking black coffee and laughing at his best friend, Lance’s, jokes.

But then again, Lance was the one who asked him to this party, the biggest party of the fall, and Keith could never refuse the boy, with his sun-kissed skin and freckles, along with his chocolate brown hair and sapphire eyes, the ones that first showed him kindness when nobody else wanted to.

* * *

Keith and Lance had been friends since the seventh grade when Lance first moved to Texas from Florida. Keith had lived there his whole life, along with his mom and dad. However, when Keith’s mom died in a car crash at the beginning of freshman year of high school, things began to change.

Keith’s dad had begun to drink. Excessively. To the point where he would go into fits of unimaginable rage and caused unimaginable pain to Keith. Kicking, punching, spitting, name-calling. They were all thrown at Keith, and it became even worse when he came out as gay by accident to him.

Keith had felt that, with Lance’s parents divorcing, that he couldn't add more to the plate, and kept it to himself. 

Keeping it inside had turned out to be a major mistake.

With the pressure of hiding the bruises and cuts, along with the bullying at school that he also kept hidden away from his friends, and his own depression, Keith felt like there was a large weight on his shoulders and chains that wrapped tightly around his wrists and ankles that dragged him down. Deep, deep, deeper into the abyss that tried to swallow him up whole. 

And in order to get rid of the ever-present weight and chains, he resorted to pain: something that could pull that weight off his shoulders for at least a couple minutes, make the chains disappear for a good hour as the blood from the wounds on his wrists and thighs dripped into the bathtub every night. 

To hide the wounds, both self-inflicted and caused by his dad, Keith began to wear jackets and pants all the time, even during the hottest days of the summer. He just couldn’t let Lance know, couldn’t burden the boy even more than he probably already was to him.

Lance was the one light in his life that kept him moving forward. A constant in Keith’s ever-changing world. He, along with their friends Hunk and Pidge, somehow got him to smile, even when he dreaded returning home or going to his next class, full of critical eyes and hateful words. And Keith was not surprised in the least when he realized that his feeling of friendship for the boy had transformed into something more at the beginning of sophomore year.

When Lance began to date Nyma at the middle of sophomore year, however, everything took a 180 turn for the worst. Nyma had been one of his worst bullies, being the cheer captain and siblings with Rolo from the football team. Lance was on the basketball team, being not only tall but skillful as well, and dominating the court, so he was never there for after-school beatings and chokeholds in the dark halls because of practices and games.

Lance began to hang out with Keith, Hunk, and Pidge less and less, to the point where he just didn’t have any time to say hi in the hallways or sit with them at lunch. He always had Nyma attached to him, distracting him and pulling him away. Hunk and Pidge watched as the once shiny violet eyes Keith had, the ones that stared at Lance with admiration and joy began to fade to a dull color with worry. However, because they weren’t as close to him as Lance was, they never knew how to approach the boy. 

The constant that Keith had had disappeared, and with the constant gone, there was nothing that could prevent Keith from going just a little bit deeper with the knife, or allow his dad to punch and kick him just a couple times more, spewing names like “faggot” and “useless little bitch”. 

So Keith had been very surprised when Lance came up to him at the beginning of fourth-period history class to invite him to Nyma’s house for the party. Keith had been hesitant, seeing as it was a  _ party _ at the home of  _ two of his worst bullies _ , but Lance had told him that Hunk had a baby shower to go to that night, and Pidge was going to be seeing their aunt in Dallas, a good two hours away from their small town of Altea.

Lance had gone so far as to ask Keith on his knees for him to go, not wanting to be alone. Lance knew how Keith was with big crowds, and that’s probably why he had come to him as a last resort, being the good friend he is and not wanting to put the boy in a stressful situation. 

When Keith sighed a resigned affirmation that he will attend, Lance had sprung up and pulled the raven-haired boy into a tight hug, promising that he would not leave him alone and pay him back for this. The hug made Keith’s heart soar, and a small blush had erupted on his pale cheeks, and he didn’t anticipate the hell he would be put through.

* * *

So that is where Keith is now, standing on the concrete step with Lance outside of Nyma and Rolo’s house. Music blared from inside the large mansion-like house, and Keith could see many writhing bodies move sluttily inside on the makeshift dance floor, grinding against each other like nobody was watching. Couples made out on the lawn in front, and he was pretty sure that he could hear some rustling coming from the hedge to his right, clothes draped over the greenery.

Keith edged closer to the boy next to him, shaking slightly from all the noise and, just, everything. People will be drinking, Keith knew this, but he couldn’t stop himself from smelling the alcoholic scent and remembering what he was in for when he gets home.

“Dude, chill. I’ll be with you the entire time, so there’s nothing to be afraid of. You can hang out with me and Nyma, and I can maybe try to hook you up with some hot guy, hmm?” Lance elbowed him in the ribs, right where Keith’s dad had kicked him the night before. Keith sucked in a shaky breath and tried to smile at the taller boy, but Lance’s attention had transferred to the doorway, where Nyma stood leaning against the frame, smug smile on her face.

“Hey babe, this is my friend Keith, remember? I told you he was coming tonight?” Lance introduced him to her excitedly, and Keith watched as she feigned surprised and smiled.

“Yeah babe, I remember. Hey Keith, it’s great to finally meet you!” She placed her hand in front of him and grinned a too-big smile, acting as if she never met the boy before. Keith shook her hand tentatively, slowly pulling away and scuffing his boot into the concrete. 

As the pair were let into the house, Keith thought to himself. 

So this was how it was gonna be? Act as if you haven’t been torturing me and beating me for the past eight years of my school life in front of your boyfriend and my best friend? Okay then.

“Hey Keith, I’m gonna go get us some drinks. You want beer or tequila?” Lance spoke loudly over the boom of the speakers. Keith’s eyes widened, and he felt a lump in his throat as he asked for water instead. 

“Okay, then. I’ll be back in a bit. I need to talk to Nyma about something, so just stand over there or, something.” Lance yelled, looking almost tired as he pointed to a far wall by a staircase going down.

Keith felt his body begin to shake as he slowly nodded and watched as his constant walked away.

Once the taller boy was out of sight, Keith felt someone tap his shoulder, making the noirette turn around. That turned out to be a mistake.

Standing smugly behind him was none other than Rolo, and looked like how he did every time he beat Keith: with amusement.

“Hey fag, what you doin’ here? Done hoeing around your buddy?” Rolo smirked, and roughly punched Keith in the shoulder, making him stumble back a bit.

Keith felt his breath quicken, his heart beat faster as he stared wide-eyed at the taller football star, dread filling him up and the chains pulling at him. He stood there, frozen stiff, as Rolo stared at him, fists clenching periodically, itching to be put to use.

He knew that Lance would be devastated and pissed at him is he just left, so he didn’t.

He sprinted to the only safe haven in the large house: the bathroom.

* * *

Lance glided through the dance floor to the kitchen with ease, having grown used to the movement through his relationship with a party-girl like Nyma.

When he entered the kitchen, he made his way to the keg that sat in the corner, pouring some of the tan liquid into a stereotypical red cup, the ones you would see in movies. Lance then turned to the counter and secured a plastic water bottle for Keith, and made his way to Nyma, who stood by the exit to the backyard, talking to a girl who wore way too much eyeshadow and had blonde curly hair that poofed in her ponytail.

“Nyma, we need to talk.”

“Yeah. I know.” The girl sneered, shooing the girl away with a flick of her wrist. The curly haired girl walked away, and Nyma strutted over to Lance with a small scowl on her face. “Why would you invite that homosexual emo to our party? Do you  _ want _ to ruin my reputation?”

Lance’s eyes widened a fraction, before narrowing at his sapphire eyes at his girlfriend, rage burning behind the ocean of them. “What did you say?”

“You heard me, babe. Keith is just an emo boy who cuts himself and allows his dad and us to do whatever he wants to him. A pushover and a waste of air.”

“What are you talking about? I’m Keith’s best friend. I would know if his dad, along with students at school, were hurting him. And Keith DOES NOT cut himself.” Lance seethed at the girl. 

Keith would tell him, right?

“Oh really? If you’re so good of a friend with him, then explain to me why he always wearing long sleeves and jeans, huh? How he flinches when someone raises a hand. How he never lets anyone touch his wrists. It’s hilarious, considering you are  _ dating _ me.” Nyma spoke snottily. 

Lance froze, eyes turning to the size of dinner plates because he realized. He can’t explain it. Keith’s behavior had changed drastically after the death of his mother, but he had pinned that to grief. He had never realized…. Oh god.

“Well, it’s a good thing I’m  _ not _ dating you, then, because it’s not hilarious,” Lance spoke lowly, barely audible over the loud music and the laughter. He ran out of the kitchen, ignoring Nyma’s protests and curses. He had to find him, had to confront him, make him tell the truth.

When he got back to the spot that he had left the raven-haired boy at, it was empty. Lance cursed to himself. 

Where could he be?

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back with the other chapter! I'm surprised this got so many hits in the one or two days it's been up! Thank you! 
> 
> Warning: even more depressing and angsty than the first chapter! I swear, I love Keith.

He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t speak. All Keith felt he was able to do was run. So that’s what he did.

 

The stairs were the closest thing to him, and as he took the steps down and down, it got darker and darker. There were two doors: one on his right, and one straight ahead. A couple stood next to the one ahead of him, faces mushed together and drool dripping from their locked mouths as they seemed to try and suck the life out of the other.

 

Not wanting to disturb the disgusting couple, Keith opened the door to his right and almost cried with relief when he saw the large tub in front of him. Slowly closing the door, he locked the handle and sunk to the floor, knees squeezed up against his chest and arms wrapped in a vise grip around them. The tears began to dribble down his pale, flushed face as he stared ahead of him, thoughts rushing through his head at lightning speed.

 

Why did he agree to come? Why did he have to be such a fuck-up? Why did he have to be bullied? Why did he have to have such an abusive dad? Why, why, why? 

 

As the mantra continued to repeat through his head, he felt around in his pocket for his comfort. The other constant that he knew would never leave him. 

 

His pocket knife.

 

However, before he could pull it out of his pocket, a sudden bang resounded front the door on his back, followed by three more. Keith jumped where he sat, and his eyes turned to the door handle. It shook slightly, and flashbacks passed through his consciousness. 

 

Handles jingling. Fists being thrown. Furious dark eyes. Booze smell in the air. Black and blue bruises up and down his sides, arms, and legs. Blood dripping. 

 

Another slam on the door brought him out of his thoughts, and he hurriedly stood and stumbled to the sink. Turning the cool water on, he rubbed at his face, hoping that the water can cover up the tear tracks that ran down his face and his red-rimmed eyes.

 

Turning the stream of the water off reluctantly a few minutes later, he stared at himself in the mirror and considered himself at least kind of okay. Keith then slowly began to walk back to the door, arm outstretched to the lock that sat above the handle.

 

But then Keith realized that, while he had been washing his face, the banging and the slamming had ceased. 

 

Breathing a sigh of relief, he backed away from the door and hopped into the porcelain bathtub.

 

The tub had always been Keith’s safe spot. Whether he was cutting, crying, or just hiding, the tub was his go-to spot. He had great memories of bubble baths with his mom and washing his old pet cat Red with his dad, before his mom’s accident. So at the moment, even if it was different from his own, Keith felt it was appropriate to use.

 

Sinking down into the cool tub was comforting, and Keith reached back into his pocket to pull out the pocket knife again.

 

It had been his mom’s, beautiful like herself. It had a black handle with a good grip and a unique dark violet jewel in the middle that glowed in the moonlight that streamed through the window above. The blade was small, and flipped out easily, showing the gray beauty and reflecting Keith’s face back to himself.

 

Tugging off his sweater had been a challenge, with the bruises getting in the way and making him whimper when the one on his ribs stretched just a bit too much. Somehow, he managed, though, throwing the black material over the rim. 

 

There, sitting in front of him, marring his arms, were his outlets. Dozens of cuts, each varying in size, stood out on his skin. Some were a faded pink, almost too hard to see, while some were scabs of ones he had done the day before. Some had reasons to be there, while others didn’t. But they all that one purpose: to let Keith relieve pressure.

 

The blade slightly shook in his hand as he held it up to his left wrist, right below a scabbed over one he had made right after his dad had finished his daily beating. It continued to shake as he began to slightly add pressure, not enough to draw blood yet, but just to leave a red line.

 

Then another slam on the door, followed by yelling.

 

And before Keith could even look over the edge of the tub at the door, the door was thrown open and there stood the last person he wanted to see in his state.

 

Lance.

 

The tan boy was standing at the door, panting heavily with determined eyes. His usual smile was gone, replaced with a deep-set frown, and small beads of sweat dripped down his face.

 

Keith couldn’t move when Lance spotted him, nor could he when his crush began to stomp over to him. Keith had forgotten about his scars and bruises at the moment, as well as the pocket knife he held bluntly in his right hand.

 

It wasn’t until Lance was standing right in front of him, staring almost angrily down at his wrists that he realized they were out in the open. Keith’s eyes shot back down to his marred arms, then back up to Lance, wide with horror. 

 

When Keith moved to get his sweater back on, he was suddenly pulled out of the tub by under his arm, and he let out a little whine when it pulled at the bruise on his ribs. Lance seemed to freeze at that, and quickly let go when Keith was standing, sweater clutched tightly in his hand.

 

“Come on. Let’s go,” Lance sighed, eyes tired and sad, staring down at the floor. Keith moved to put the sweater over his head again, but Lance reached out and grabbed his hand, shaking his head when he looked up at him. 

 

Then, they were off.

 

* * *

The car ride was silent. 

 

While usually Lance would be blasting Beyonce and singing along, despite Keith’s numerous warnings of crashes and to be careful, Lance just couldn’t bring himself to act like he normally would. Instead, his hands were clenched on the steering wheel, knuckles white, and staring at the road as if all of this was its fault. Not his lack of observation.

 

Keith had been his friend since seventh grade, when he saw the boy sitting alone on the benches the first day of school. Being the social and friendly young kid he was, he introduced himself, and the two hit it off almost instantly. 

 

They always hung out together, whether it be at the park or at one of their houses. They were attached at the hip.

 

When Keith came out as gay to their group of friends, Lance was there to back him up by coming out as bisexual as well. When Lance got a good grade on a test that he studied especially hard for, Keith was there with a Slurpee, saying that “a brain freeze will distract you from the pain of thinking too hard”.

 

When Keith’s mom had died, Lance was there with a shoulder to cry on, rocking the depressed boy into slumber. When Lance’s parents divorced, with his papa moving back to Florida and leaving Lance with his mama and his sister and two brothers, Keith patted his back as the car drove away. 

 

They were always there for each other, so why did Keith feel the need to hide this from him? To hide that he was hurting?

 

Lance snuck a glance over to the boy beside him, and his heart squeezed painfully. Keith sat there, staring out the window almost fearfully, like he was on his way to his execution. His hands were clammy, nervously rubbing on his dark blue ripped jeans. His scars and bruises were on full display, with them trailing all over his arms and up to his shoulders. 

 

Keith’s eyes flitted over to Lance, and the two locked eyes until Keith pulled away, staring into his lap timidly. Lance turned back to the road, and they continued on in silence.

 

* * *

The car pulled to a stop, lurching forwards a little bit. Keith slowly lifted his eyes to look out the window. He expected to be sitting in front of his house, or at least Lance’s. But that was not the case.

 

Instead, the car sat in front of their old middle school. The blue and white of the walls were dull with age, and the lights in the front gave the facility a soft glow. The parking lot they sat in was devoid of life, seeing as it was ten at night on a Saturday.

 

Keith turned his head to Lance, confusion swirling in his eyes. He tilted his head to the right slightly, and stared at the tan boy, waiting.

 

After a few minutes with no answer, Lance finally spoke, voice soft. “This was the place where we first met.”

 

“I know. What about it?”

 

“Remember, back in eighth grade, when you got that giant bruise on your shoulder from playing dodgeball, how you didn’t tell me?” Lance’s eyes turned to the black-haired boy, maneuvering his body to face him as well. “You didn’t tell me for two days, until I punched you in the arm and you cried out in pain.”

 

“Yeah, of course, I remember. You apologized multiple times to me about it.” Keith continued to stare downwards, even with the blue eyes boring into him.

 

“We made a promise.”

 

Keith’s eyes snapped up, blown wide with surprised. Honestly, he had hoped that Lance would forget about that, but Keith also forgot about his friend’s incredible memory as well. His hands began to shake uncontrollably, and he felt his eyes begin to burn with the unmistakable want to cry.

 

“We promised each other that we would never keep secrets from each other again. Especially when one of us were hurting.” Lance’s voice cracked. “Why did you feel the need to hide  _ this  _ from me? Keith, your father has been  _ hurting you _ , the kids at school have been  _ hurting you _ , and you're hurting yourself. Keith, why?” 

 

Tears were beginning to pool up and spill from both of the boy's eyes. “I-I… I’m sorry.” Keith whispered.

 

“NO! I DON’T WANT AN APOLOGY! I WANT AN EXPLANATION!” Lance suddenly yelled, face red. Keith shrunk back, face contorting into fear as his dad’s face flashed through his head again.

 

“I-I didn’t want to burden you. W-When it started, you w-were de-dealing with your parent’s divorce, so I-I couldn’t add more pressure wi-with my trivial problems…” Keith’s eyes were back to the floor, tears streaking down and plopping onto his jeans.

 

“THIS ISN’T TRIVIAL THOUGH! KEITH, YOU’RE HURTING! I CAN’T JUST SIT HERE AND WATCH THE BOY I LOVE DYING!” he screamed, then his eyes widened in realization, and he slammed his hands over his mouth.

 

Keith’s head whipped up, eyes the same as Lance’s, and his face erupted in a crimson blush against his pale cheekbones. “You-You love me?”

 

Lance sighed. It was out, might as well go with it. “Yes, I’ve loved you since the beginning of sophomore year.”

 

“I’ve loved you since the beginning of sophomore year, when you helped me while I was sick.”

 

The two boys stared at each other for a long while, and then Lance broke it again, but this time, his voice was soft and loving.

 

“Keith, will you date me, please?”

 

“Yes, I will Lance.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue:  
> Keith and Lance start dating that night, and the next morning, Keith finally tells the police about what his dad has been doing to him. Keith's dad is arrested, and Keith moves him with his cousin, Shiro, who's a police officer.   
> Nyma and Rolo end up getting expelled for their treatment of Keith, and the whole school begins to accept Keith more.   
> It takes a while, but with the help of Lance and his friends, Keith slowly stops cutting and finds the happiness he deserved.  
> (Also, Lance and Keith are voted cutest couple in their senior year yearbooks!)
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! Please kudos and give some suggestions for other fics, as well as how you think I did! I want some criticism to better myself!

**Author's Note:**

> Did y'all like it?
> 
> Please comment and kudos to tell me just how much you did, and also, give me some prompts to do if you want! It would be greatly appreciated!
> 
> Until next time!


End file.
